Page 11 of Christmas in Quincy (The Edens 0.50)

What man in his shoes wouldn’t? I understood the motives for his over-the-top measures. Hell, many famous singers and actors and sports stars didn’t have the level of security Ray required for Cleo. But at the same time, I understood Cleo’s need for freedom. There had to be a balance. A compromise. Only it wasn’t my job to broker the arrangement.

My job was simply to get Cleo home.

The door to the bathroom opened and she walked out, her chin held high. She carried her champagne to the nightstand and set it down beside the empty bottle, then swiped up a binder near the lamp, flipping it open as she plopped onto the edge of the bed.

I blinked. Twice. Not because she was ignoring me. But because my mind was blank. My tongue was three sizes too big and my eyes didn’t know where to look first.

Her legs? No, her arms. Her chest. No, definitely her legs.

There was a lot of skin on display, from the scalloped hem of her sleep shorts all the way down toned thighs and trim calves to her dainty ankles. Her delectable feet were hidden by those slippers.

I forced my eyes up and they landed on the smooth line of her neck. She’d twisted her hair up and a dark tendril curled behind the shell of her ear. She wore no jewelry, not even the diamond studs that were her favorite because they’d been Janet’s. I’d overheard her tell that to Brynne at the bakery one day, two years ago.

I stared at the lobes of her naked ears, refusing to let my gaze drop beyond her neck. Because below her collarbones, her top was nothing more than a scrap of silk. A cropped top that showed a hint of midriff. The spaghetti straps left her arms and shoulders bare. And the wide V-neck plunged much, much too low.

Leave. Get out. My mind screamed for me to walk out the door because this was my client’s daughter, but my body was fighting for the other team. The team that wanted me to cross the room, pull Cleo into my arms and find out if she tasted as sweet as her confections.

I had to get the fuck out of this room.

Cleo had twenty-four-seven security, but there was a reason why I always assigned her to a member of my team, why I didn’t monitor her personally. I didn’t trust myself. When she was in the room, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings. I was aware of her. Only her.

At thirty-three years old, I’d never met a person who could block out the world.

Until Cleo.

And damn it, I couldn’t exactly haul her out of here wearing those skimpy pajamas. “I’ll give you one night. One. Then we’re leaving in the morning.”

“Whatever.” She sipped her champagne and studied the room service menu. She flipped the page and leaned forward to study the text. The gap at the front of her top loosened, barely covering those gorgeous breasts. Her nipples peaked through the thin fabric.

Fuck me.

Without another word, I strode to the door, flinging it open at the same time I swiped my backpack from the floor. The echo of the door’s slam followed me as I marched down the hallway to the elevator. I punched the down arrow three times, practically jumping in once it arrived.

When I reached the lobby, I found a quiet corner beside the Christmas tree and called the pilot, giving him the go-ahead to return to California alone. He offered to spend the night, but there was no reason for us all to be stuck in Montana before Christmas. I’d get a ticket with Cleo and we’d fly back commercial in the morning.

I slumped forward in the chair, my backpack resting at my feet, and closed my eyes before pinching the bridge of my nose. Goddamn it. Goddamn this trip. Goddamn Ray. Avoiding him was futile so I dialed his number.

He didn’t answer.

Why would he? He and Selene were hosting one of their annual Christmas-week soirees and had a house full of rich people. All he cared about was that Cleo was safe and would be home promptly. What he didn’t know tonight wouldn’t kill him.

I stood and took in the lobby, assessing exits and entrances. Casing a place had become habit over my career. The inn was cozy and classy without being stuffy. If not for the snow, it would be the perfect holiday getaway. A big improvement over the party Cleo was avoiding at her father’s house.

If I were wearing her slippers, I would have skipped town too. Not that I’d admit that to her.

I was the hired help and no one, especially Ray, gave a shit about my opinion.

Tomorrow, I’d get Cleo to California. She’d be fully clothed and those pajamas a distant memory. Then I’d go back to my life and she’d go back to hers. The only contact I’d have with Cleo would be the weekly report that crossed my desk from the team assigned to her detail.

Maybe one of these days she’d get a serious boyfriend who lasted longer than a month and this attraction I had for her would fizzle out. I mean, it hadn’t in four years, but eventually it had to fade, right?

I raked a hand through my hair and crossed the lobby for the front desk. At least I’d thought to bring a bag, not that it had much other than my laptop, charging cords and a bottle of aspirin.

The young woman standing behind the counter smiled as I approached. She hadn’t been at the desk earlier when I’d entered the lobby. I’d been prepared to deliver some bullshit line about being Cleo’s boyfriend here to surprise her for Christmas, but then I’d seen the bellboy set down a tray with one glass and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

Cleo loved champagne so on a hunch, I’d stolen a glance at the room receipt. Sure enough, her name had been on the ticket beside the room number 410.

“Good evening, sir,” Eloise, her name tag read, greeted. “How can I help you?”